


Perfectly Disrespectful

by Em_Jaye



Series: The Long Way Around [8]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Best Friends, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-20 15:07:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19994209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Em_Jaye/pseuds/Em_Jaye
Summary: Woody Allen once said, 'If you want to make God laugh, tell him about your plans." With that in mind, Darcy had to wonder if there was anyone who could make God laugh quite like Steve Rogers.December 1971: Pros & Cons





	Perfectly Disrespectful

**Author's Note:**

> The enjoyment people seem to be getting from this series is quite honestly breathing life into my salty, salty soul. So much negativity brewing on Tumblr re: Endgame and literally everything that comes out of the Russos' stupid faces. If this series can be of any help in these troubled times (even if it's just to me) then I'll probably keep writing it forever. 
> 
> I just love you guys.

December 1971

It didn’t snow in Oakland. It got colder. Rainy. Gray and bleak. But no snow. It made pretending to be in the holiday spirit that much more difficult as the end of the second calendar year of their predicament loomed in the distance.

Darcy was still fighting her pessimism—she’d decorated their apartment with a menorah and hung a string of colored lights around the windows. She’d bought a few Christmas records and made herself play them when she was feeling particularly down. And she’d started composing her list.

“Hey,” she called to Steve when she heard the bathroom door open. “What do you want for Christmas?”

“You to remember to clean your goddamn hair out of the shower drain,” he said without missing a beat as he crossed the living room to the kitchen.

She rolled her eyes and reached for her mug of cocoa from the coffee table. “I will when you stop leaving your beard trimmings all over the sink.”

“I’m only doing that in protest of you destroying our plumbing with your,” he motioned to her vaguely, “mane.”

Darcy returned to her notebook and shook her head. “The stalemate continues,” she muttered.

Steve dropped down onto the couch beside her. “What are you doing? Making a Christmas list?”

“Mentally, yes,” she said. “But no, this I’m doing to keep from opening a vein if this weather doesn’t break soon.” Her eyes slid to the window behind them and the torrential downpour that had swept over the city the night before and promised no signs of letting up any time soon. She held up the folded back composition book.

Steve squinted. “ _Pros of Being Stuck in the 70s_ ,” he read with a half-smile as she put it back in her lap. “Really?”

“Really.”

He looked amused. “What’ve you got so far?”

“First and foremost,” she cleared her throat and set her cocoa back down. “Currently walking the same planet as Freddy Mercury.”

“Good start,” he nodded.

“No one is doing bath salts—ie: my face is considerably less likely to be eaten off if I visit Florida now than if I visited when I get back.”

“Always a plus.”

“Cross-fit hasn’t been invented yet.”

Steve smirked. “Okay…”

“High-waisted jeans are way more flattering than I thought they’d be,” Darcy tapped her pen against her list as she made her way to her most recent addition. “And it will be at least forty years before anyone asks me to listen to Bruno Mars.”

He laughed. “You don’t like Bruno Mars?”

“I _hate_ Bruno Mars,” she assured him. “Are you a fan?”

He moved a shoulder. “I don’t think I’ve ever really thought too much about him one way or the other. But I didn’t hate him with the fiery passion you seem to be carrying around.” He raised his eyebrows. “Anything else?”

Darcy frowned. “Not really.”

“Seriously?” he asked. “Five things? That’s all the positivity you’ve squeezed out of this experience?”

“Well no,” she argued lightly. “I mean, it’s not like these five things are all I’m clinging too. But like, I can’t put ‘have the opportunity to see Queen live in concert for eleven dollars’ because we’re _definitely_ not staying here until 1975 and when we go home without having done that, it’ll have to be shoved into the cons column.”

“Oh, so there is a cons column?”

“Of course, there’s a cons column,” she exclaimed with a laugh. “No internet, no cell phone, no EPA regulations, no yoga pants, no sriracha, being surrounded by the worst facial hair in history—” she sighed. “But if I started writing it all down it’ll read like a suicide note.”

Steve laughed. “Okay, that’s a fair point,” he admitted before he frowned. “And you like sriracha? That stuff is like lighting your tongue on fire.”

“Like lighting your tongue on fire with _flavor_ , Steve,” she scoffed. “Come on,” she nudged his leg with her slipper. “What pros can you add to my list?”

He thought for a moment. “Gas feels like a reasonable price again?”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “And I thought my list was depressing.”

“Your list _is_ depressing,” Steve argued back. “But $3.65/gallon is criminal and I’m happy I’m not paying it right now.”

“Fine,” she sighed and scribbled it down.

“I don’t have to get wrapped up in hating Nixon because I know he’s going to be out of office any minute.”

“Oh, I like that one,” Darcy agreed.

“They’re not putting aspartame in everything yet, so it still tastes like it’s supposed to.” He waited for her to write it down before he added, “And I don’t have to waste my time ripping out homeless spikes around the city because this city isn’t quite that heartless yet.”

She looked up from her notebook. “Did you…Did you used to waste a lot of time doing that?”

He shrugged. “Enough that it was kind of a chore.”

She tilted her head to one side. “How illegal is that?”

The corner of Steve’s lips twitched. “Pretty illegal.”

She nodded. “Nice.”

“Your turn,” he swatted her ankle. “Something positive. Go.”

“Hmm,” she pursed her lips and pondered before the thought occurred to her. “Okay, here’s one. Time and space away from the situation has made me realize what a bad decision it would be to follow-through with the hookup with Ian the Intern that will still be lurking in the future once we get done saving the world in 2013.”

Steve’s brow creased. “Ian…the Intern that you lost?”

She coughed in indignation. “Lost?” she repeated. “I didn’t _lose_ him; he was a grown man. It’s not my fault he wandered off in the middle of an apocalypse. And how the hell do you remember that, anyway?”

He shrugged. “Perfect recall.”

“Anyway,” she continued, pointedly. “He would’ve wandered back eventually.”

“And into a bad decision?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know,” she admitted, trying to remember what it was about Ian that had compelled her to even consider inviting him back to her apartment at some point. “I think I liked him?” she tilted her head again. There must have been something. She recalled enjoying the _idea_ of flirting with him—she’d liked making him blush and stammer when he talked to her. But it felt too far away now. Like she was trying to recall someone else’s memories.

Steve laughed. “You don’t have to convince me,” he reminded. “But that’s not exactly a ringing endorsement.”

She wrinkled her nose. “No, I guess not. I don’t know,” she said again. “The more I think about it…the more I’m thinking it wouldn’t have been anything to write home about. So…thanks?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re welcome, I guess? For saving you from what sounds like a lukewarm, mediocre sexual experience?”

It was her turn to laugh. “You’re a true American hero.”

He moved his shoulder again. “It’s not all Nazis and aliens, you know.”

“Who knows,” she sighed and tossed her notebook on the coffee table before she moved to curl her legs beneath her. “Maybe he would’ve rocked my world, but something tells that’s pretty optimistic.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s just like…” she felt her nose wrinkle a second time. “Okay, so you know how, when someone respects you too much that there’s just no way the sex can be any good?”

Darcy watched Steve blink slowly and deliberately twice before he dropped his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ve uh,” he coughed. “I’ve had legitimate anxiety attacks worrying about that exact thing,” he admitted. “But no, until this moment, I didn’t know that was something to actually worry about.”

She winced and felt her cheeks turn pink when he looked up again. “Oh. Uh. Sorry. It’s totally a thing,” she said before she cleared her throat and nudged him with her heel. “Don’t worry,” she said quickly. “I’m sure you’re perfectly disrespectful where it counts.”

Steve snorted and shook his head. “That’s really beautiful,” he said dryly. “Can I get that cross-stitched on a pillow?”

“But since you brought it up…”

“Oh Christ, here we go.”

“What?” Darcy laughed. “Did you think I was going to let you wear the mantle of Darcy’s Best Friend and never tell me whether or not Captain America has ever had sex?”

The tops of his ears were red when he laughed and ran a hand over his face. “Uh, as far as I know, Captain America has never had sex. But Steve Rogers has had…” he coughed. “Some sex.”

Darcy fought every muscle in her face to press her lips together in a straight line. “Some sex?” she repeated. “What um…” she coughed and placed a hand over her mouth delicately. “Can you quantify that response, sir? How many…” she coughed again. “Um. Partners have you had?” She watched in amazement as he scrunched up his face, looking firmly away from her, and held up four fingers. She felt her eyes widen. “What.”

“It’s not an indication of anything,” he argued immediately.

She held up her hands. “I didn’t say it was!” she insisted. “I just mean…” she trailed off. “I’m surprised…is all. I would’ve…” she bit her lip. “I don’t know, I guess I’d just assumed since you’re so…” her hand moved in a circle in his general direction. “With the muscles and the jawline. It surprises me that you…’re still counting on one hand.”

“How many hands are you counting on?” he snapped back, but Darcy didn’t hear any edge or genuine irritation in his voice.

“Just two,” she said with an innocent shrug and held up all five fingers of her right hand and three on her left. “And I’m just saying…I don’t have abs you could do your laundry on and ass that doesn’t quit. So, you can imagine my surprise—” Steve snorted again, and she smiled before she leaned her head against the back of the couch. “So, can I ask who is the proud owner of Steve Rogers’ virginity?”

He dropped his head back and groaned. “Her name was Ruby Price.”

Darcy grinned. “I like that name. Was this before or after your visit to the Easybake Beefcake Machine?”

“Well, obviously it was after,” he said, giving her a look. “I could barely walk around the block without having an asthma attack before. Having sex might have killed me.”

She winced again. “Yeah, I guess that breathy sex play stuff isn’t all that fun when you might actually die, huh?”

“I wouldn’t think so,” he agreed before he frowned. “And what the hell did you just call it? The Easybake…?”

Her smile brightened. “The Easybake Beefcake Machine,” she said simply. “You know, like my Easybake Oven when I was a kid. Only instead of a partially baked, barely edible brownie, it spit out a big, beefy, American dream.” Before he could respond to that, she lifted her eyebrows. “Anyway, Ruby Price?”

“Yeah, it was—” he shrugged. “She was one of the girls on the tour with me.”

“Ooh, was that a big scandal? Her defiling a national icon like that?”

He rolled his eyes. “Not exactly. Nobody really cared what I did on that tour as long as bond sales went up. And it’s not like we were a couple,” he added. “I think mostly she was just bored.” He pushed back the pieces of hair that had fallen into his face. “Since we’re gossiping like middle schoolers,” he said, looking across the couch at her. “Anything you want to share with the class?”

She laughed. “Well I’m sure it’s not as exciting as this Ruby Price and the Deflowering of Freedom story that you’re obviously trying to keep from me,” she waited for him to laugh before she continued. “But I mean, my first time was nothing special, trust me. It hurt and it was awkward, and I barely knew the guy and I didn’t really talk to him afterwards. Anyway,” she waved that memory away. “I was sixteen. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. That’s not a good story.” She changed tactics. “Was Ruby Price your first kiss, too?”

Steve shook his head. “No, that was Catherine Morgan—she lived upstairs in our apartment building.”

Darcy smiled again. “How old were you?”

His face wrinkled with the effort it took to recall. “Seven, I think? She kissed me and then she punched me and told me she’d kill me if I ever told anyone. It was a very confusing afternoon,” he glanced over with a wry grin. “What about you?”

She let out a nostalgic hum. “Jamie Silver, Girl Scout camp, fifth grade.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Does that really count?”

“Uh, if you knew the way Jamie Silver kissed,” Darcy scoffed. “You wouldn’t dream of asking such a question.”

He smiled. “She the one that got away?”

Darcy sighed again. “She was from New Jersey,” she lamented. “The distance would have killed it—and they never would have let us be together.”

Steve chuckled. “And how much precious time did you and Jamie have together?”

“Four torrid, campfire-filled nights.” She reached for her mug again and raised it toward the ceiling. “To Jamie and those perfect, pillowy lips of hers,” she said before she took drained what was left of her hot chocolate. She watched Steve laugh quietly, to himself, for a moment before she grabbed her notebook and added one last thing to the list before she dropped it back onto the table.

Curious, he craned his neck to read her addition. “ _Getting to be best friends with Steve_?” he asked skeptically.

She shrugged. “What? It’s a definite pro. I could’ve been stuck here with anyone—I’m glad it’s you.”

He let his head drop back again with another heavy sigh. “Well, now I feel like a dick for what I said about your hair in the drain.”

“You should feel like a dick,” she agreed with a smile as she pulled her long, dark curls over one shoulder. “There are men in this world who would kill to have this mane destroying the plumbing of their apartment buildings.”

He got to his feet with a look of confusion. “That didn’t even make sense,” he said before retreating from the living room. 

“Where are you going?”

“To clean my beard trimmings out of the sink,” he said over his shoulder.

“Mission accomplished,” she cackled to herself. “That’s one point for Darcy.”

**Author's Note:**

> We...all know who Steve was thinking about when he had those anxiety attacks, right? 
> 
> \-----------
> 
> Come play with me on tumblr: @idontgettechnology and join me at ishipitpod.com for weekly podcast on fandom and fanfic by yours truly. 
> 
> *kisses*


End file.
